Empathy For The Dead
by Whispers Of A Mad God
Summary: Namikaze Minato couldn't bear to seal the Kyūbi in his own son. A pink-haired nobody, however... (Jinchūriki!Sakura)


_And now, because I have no self-control..._

* * *

 **Empathy For The Dead**

* * *

 **Student Arc (0-1)**

 **When One Door Opens…**

* * *

" _You runt, you really are weak! You better be grateful to me…_

 _and to your beloved Fourth Hokage, who sealed me inside a twerp like you!"_

 _\- Kurama, Kyūbi no Yōko_

* * *

" **I…"** My voice is rough, low. If it sounds half as bewildered as I feel, it should qualify as a C-Rank Genjutsu. "I don't understand, Hokage-sama. I passed. Why aren't I…? Have I failed you, in some manner? If I had, please, tell me, I can make it up to you, I-I promise."

For a long, torturously slow moment, the Yondaime Hokage doesn't respond. Instead, he taps a perfectly maintained fingernail against the wooden desk, the _rat-tat-tat_ echoing hauntingly in the office of the strongest ninja in the Land of Fire. The hustle and bustle of the prosperous village outside seems to quail at the sound, the light of the dying sun darkens when it passes through the window, and my sixth and most powerful sense is blinded for the first time in my life.

I am suddenly, shockingly reminded that he is my Kage, and I am not even his proper ninja yet, and it is not my place to question him. The impossible sight of inky black sealwork crawling across the walls reinforces this impression. With no words and no movement save the flexing of a finger, he just activated a privacy fūin so complex my meager three years of study into the art reveals absolutely nothing of its convoluted mechanics. I could not translate it with a month's time and a gallon of coffee, I could not with another decade of ceaseless study, why would I even _think_ he would deign to answer someone like-

My gaze falls to the floor as if weighed down by lead manacles, candy-floss pink hair thankfully obscuring my sight of the Hokage. I try and fail to swallow. Right now, this is not chichiue, the kindly man who raised me; this is Hokage-sama, the military leader with dominion over all of Konohagakure. I am merely a failed Academy student, someone who thought to take the test two years early and got burned for it. I… I need to remember that.

"Ten years… the way time flies." Hokage-sama's voice is- weary. Not broken, but certainly bent, like a willow in the wind. I've never heard him speak like this before. "I should have told you years ago, Sakura-chan. Maybe I wanted you to have some semblance of a normal childhood. Maybe I was being cowardly – it wouldn't be the first time. Maybe… It doesn't matter, I suppose. The time for maybes has passed."

He pauses, as if waiting for a rejoinder. I can't think of anything to say.

"There's no gentle way to put this, so I'll be blunt. Ten years ago, when the Kyūbi no Yōko attacked the village, I did not slay it. I sealed it within a child. A… jinchūriki. A young girl, no more than six months of age, whose parents had fallen in the fighting and who had no one else to go to. I burdened her with the weight of the most powerful Bijū in the world, because I could not bear to do the same to my son. I then adopted her and raised her as my own, so the village could have a weapon, and the weapon could have a family. I hoped… but, no. You don't want my hope. I don't think you want my apologies, either, but – I am sorry, Sakura."

I don't rise from my kneel on the cold floor. I don't want him to see my face, right now. I don't want to see my face, either. It must be… so empty. Because I can't feel anything. I can't feel anything at all. The cruel revelation I had been half-expecting since the cradle incites no dark emotion in me. Not hate, or rage, or despair. Just… empty, meaningless apathy.

Is this shock? Maybe. Maybe not. I've always known there's a reason for Hokage-sama adopting me and not any one of the thousands of others orphaned during the Kyūbi's rampage. In my warmer moments, I like to think it was my precociousness, or my kindness, or… something, that impressed him enough to take me on. I knew it wasn't, though. There are others more impressive than me. And… Hokage-sama already has a son.

Namikaze Naruto. I feel something, at the thought of him. Something dark and ugly and burning hot. As the last carrier of the Uzumaki bloodline and an infant during the rampage, I don't doubt that he would have been the perfect candidate for jinchūriki. Hokage-sama loved him enough to pass him over anyway. He didn't love me enough to do the same. Why would he? I'm no one important.

(The feeling is immediately followed by guilt. Naruto is a model brother. He's kind, and sweet, and caring, and always offers a hug after a tiring day at the Academy, and I love him. He doesn't deserve my resentment.)

"Being the jinchūriki of the Kyūbi is not a symptomless condition. You've spoken to me of the negative emotions you can sense. The first jinchūriki, Uzumaki Mito, could do the same. Equally obvious are your chakra reserves. Much of the Bijū's chakra is bound in a seal over your heart, where the Gate of Death is located. A trickle is constantly released into your chakra network, stretching your capacity and acclimating you to the corrosiveness inherent in Bijū chakra. Every Sunday without fail, I have been checking on it and tweaking it while you slept. Today, I will finally loosen it, allowing more of the beast's chakra into your system, in preparation for your ninja career. And, lastly…" He hesitates.

I don't. "People know, don't they." It's not a question, but not quite a demand, either. More like… a supplication. For what, I don't know.

"Yes. While jinchūriki theory was removed from the Academy curriculum for your sake, your predecessors – both in Konoha and out – are not and never have been subtle shinobi. When I adopted you, it was obvious what you were. I made your condition an S-ranked secret in response. No one less than, oh, five or six years older than you knows of your status as Konoha's jinchūriki. And your Academy teachers have been carefully vetted; you have nothing to fear from their end."

"I know," I tell him. I can taste hatred, anger, and fear, after all. It's not sophisticated enough to know why someone is feeling what they are, but when the gooey chocolate of sheer loathing spikes whenever someone looks at me… well, it's not hard to figure out. I've never tasted such a thing from the sensei at the Academy.

At least I know why the darker emotions taste sweet, now, as opposed to bitter like one would expect. If the ability comes from a monster of rage and destruction like the Kyūbi, of course the fear it evokes tastes good. The mindless beast must live for the flavor. Is that why it attacked Konoha? Because the taste of us dying under its malevolent chakra was just that good?

I think I'm going to be sick. "If you are loosening my seal… do you wish for me to train in its use, Hokage-sama?"

"Absolutely not." His voice brooks no quarter. "You will learn once you advance to Genin. Which brings us back to your earlier question."

Hokage-same softens and becomes chichiue, with a small smile and a warm look in his eye. I can feel myself relax.

"You have done nothing wrong, Sakura-chan. Had it not been for your burden, you would have easily advanced to Genin and been placed on a four-man cell. I merely have a different idea in mind for your Genin life. You don't mind waiting, do you? For me?"

"…Of course not, Hokage-sama."

* * *

 **Eighteen Months Later…**

" **Team** Seven will be Uchiha Sasuke, Namikaze Naruto, and Namikaze Sakura, under Jōnin Hatake Kakashi."

The reaction is immediate. The fangirl contingent, headed by Yamanaka, explodes in a riot of aggravated screams and the chewy caramel of envy. Hyūga's already wretched posture melts another ten degrees lower, all-but radiating the dark brownie bliss of despair. Nara groans into his forearms, already putting together the remaining two teams of clan kids and bemoaning his own place in it, but is suspiciously lacking in the soft mint of honest annoyance. Uchiha radiates the much sharper peppermint of displeasure, but looks grudgingly approving. Naruto looks torn between scowling at the stoic Uchiha and dancing a jig on his desk.

I, meanwhile, am crawling out the window the second Kakashi's name is called, and am already scaling the tower by the time Iruka-sensei is screaming for order. I don't want to be there right now. For years I have been racking my brain for what kind of team Hokage-sama wanted to put me on, and the final reveal has left me feeling distinctly… I don't know. Not perturbed, exactly. Not surprised either. Disappointed, maybe, but not…

…Kakashi has the Sharingan. Uchiha will, too, one day. Naruto has the adamantine sealing chains. It's not hard to reason out why I've been assigned to this team. If – no, _when_ – I channel the Kyūbi's might and fall into a berserker rage, the only surviving bloodline carriers in the entire village that can stop me will already be on site. Team Seven isn't supposed to be a Genin cell, it's supposed to be a mobile containment unit for a jinchūriki. That the last loyal Uchiha and the Hokage's own son will have said jinchūriki for backup on the field is just icing on the cake.

I reach the rooftop and perch on the railing, scowling darkly. There's a part of me that wants to rant to someone, anyone, but I have no friends to rant to. My Namikaze name scares off the civilian-raised and my own self-absorption wards off everyone else. There had been Yamanaka, but her clan training told her that I was hiding a major secret, and she chose to let our nascent friendship break rather than let sleeping Bijū lie. I scowl darker.

I used to be shy, a wilting wallflower with no backbone to speak of. Then Hokage-sama told me about the monster in my heart, and my fragile confidence was broken, revealing the simmering resentment underneath.

Stupid. What do I have to be resentful about? Do I not have a loving family, a promising career, and the power to never be powerless again? Who am I to care about the opinion of the ignorant masses? The shinobi corps have never gazed upon me with anything less than approval. I can Henge to sidestep the villagers' impotent spite. I should need nothing more.

The familiar emotional auras that shrouds my new teammates increase in potency. What before tasted like I was licking a chocolatey dessert now feels like I upended the bowl over my face. Uchiha has that effect on my sixth sense. Before I found out the truth, it had drawn me to him, the 'sweetest' of my classmates, and incited a truly embarrassing crush. Now, I'm left twitchy and vaguely worried. The only other nin in the village that tastes of as much hatred as Uchiha is Mitarashi Anko, and she's nothing but an appetizer next to him.

It's not always this bad. Most days, Uchiha is… not kind, exactly, or remotely approachable, but human. He's remarkably balanced, all things considered. When he loses a spar or fails a test, or on days like this where he's so starkly reminded of his vengeance, he becomes less so. Not like I'm one to talk. I was too young to remember my own orphaning, and the perpetrator is already enslaved to my will, but I'm much more spiteful and prickly than the last Uchiha.

The door slams open and Naruto tumbles out in a ball of white and orange, screaming "First!", his emotional aura smothered by the teammate nipping at his heels. Uchiha nimbly leaps the chakra chain blocking his path with a look of profound condescension on his face. Despite being teamed with the two other top students of the year, he wears the look of someone who received a gift bag for his birthday and found the desiccated corpse of a squirrel inside.

I suppose it doesn't really matter. We're all together now, for better or for worse. All but one.

"Imōto~" Naruto whines once he finishes gloating at our regal cat of a teammate. He straightens the white, replica haori around his shoulders, looking like our legendary father in miniature if without the flak jacket. "Why'd ya leave? Nii-chan could be here any minute! We've gotta get back down there!"

I spear him with an imperious look. "Like Kakashi-niichan will ever be on time."

While my brother wilts in sudden realization and begins bemoaning how lame it is to have our off-and-on-again babysitter as our Jōnin-sensei, Uchiha raises an elegant eyebrow. "You know our sensei?"

"Mm. He's chichiue's apprentice. Very skilled, very tardy, and very infuriating." I don't mention the Sharingan. "He's certainly strong, though. I'm surprised you haven't heard of him. He's one of our most infamous ninja."

Uchiha looks contemplative, and replies almost absently. "I don't pay much attention to gossip."

"…Mm." I try and think of something else to say, but give up once I start looking to the weather for inspiration. I don't know why I was even bothering. Like me, Uchiha doesn't much care for small talk or making nice.

I can't help but wish I was placed on Aburame's team, or Nara's. My whole life, my impending graduation had been my hope of escaping my… status. Then, I could make friends who'd see me as Sakura first and Namikaze second, jinchūriki third if it ever came up. Get away from the family a bit. Fly on my own two wings. Now, I can't help but wonder what Naruto's chains will feel like, when I inevitably rampage and need to be held down.

Does he even know? I assume Hokage-sama wouldn't keep something like this from him, but I can't remember his view of me ever changing. I'd expect the knowledge that his sister houses the monster who ravaged the village would provoke some kind of reaction, but I can't seem to recall it ever happening. Maybe Kakashi will tell him, and Uchiha too while he's at it. Or… maybe I'll have to.

Sage, I hope not.

"Since nii-chan isn't going to be here for hours," Naruto is saying, "We should do something. Y'know, to pass the time. I don't think I have the patience to sit here quietly until he shows his ugly masked face."

"Like you have any patience at all, loser."

" _I do-_ yeah, okay, fair point. But!" He raises a finger tauntingly, pulling a deck of cards out of a hidden seal inside his haori. "Show me a Genin who would rather simulate detention then play strip poker, and I'll show you a liar. Or, like, that Ebisu guy. Whatever. He's not a Genin anyway. Not the point! It's strip poker time."

Uchiha wrinkles his nose. "I didn't think the Namikaze were like that."

"Like what, bastard?"

"Like _that."_ Uchiha glances towards me tellingly. I flush in mortification.

"She's adopted, so it's fine," Naruto says, and our gazes snap to him in shock. He bursts out laughing. "Oh, the looks on your faces – I'm kidding, I'm kidding! I totally don't see my imōto in that way. You've got a point, though. We probably shouldn't play strip poker with her here."

His face abruptly blanks, and a dark light dances in sky blue orbs.

"We wouldn't want me tearing out your pretty little eyes for looking at my sweet sister naked, would we?" His voice is ice. Chains leak from his skin. "I repeat. _Would we?"_

Uchiha doesn't say anything, but he tastes of cherry fear and the picture of him looking away is worth a thousand words.

I suddenly recall that a deck of cards isn't part of my brother's standard loadout. Did he pack them just to propose strip poker, just so he could properly threaten whoever my teammates turned out to be? That… yes, that does sound like something he would pull. Wao. _Not cool, onii-chan. Not cool._

"I'm down for poker," I eventually say. I'm not so dedicated to gathering strength that I would choose to meditate on my chakra when I could be doing something else. "What would we use for chips, though?"

Naruto pulls a bag of potato chips the size of his forearm out of his haori. "Stole it from Chōji. Good enough for me."

"Mm," I concur.

"Hn," Uchiha agrees.

"You two are going to be a bundle of fun, I can tell. The real lives of the party." He drops and lands cross-legged. I unseal an oversized cherry blossom-print blanket from my shawl and lay it out on the floor. Naruto grudgingly moves onto it, as do Uchiha and I. "You familiar with the rules, bastard?"

"Hn," Uchiha affirms mockingly.

"I have no idea what that means, so I'm going to pretend it's Uchiha-ese for 'Yes, Master Naruto, but not as well as you.' Well, my language-deficient friend, no one is as good as me at poker, but you'll suffice as a third wheel while I play with my cute little sister."

"I'm older than you," I say reflexively. Uchiha's only response is to pull a flawless seiza and mock us all for our relative gracelessness.

Naruto harrumphs, shuffling the deck with trained ease and entirely unnecessary flourishes. Some of the card maneuvers seem impossible without the aid of chakra. He's juggling cards in a technique he once told me was called the Triple Morning Rainbow when a sudden breeze strikes and the entire deck goes flying in the wind.

"No!" Naruto wails, running around comically in an attempt to catch them all. A desperate leap sees him narrowly catching a fluttering queen and nearly falling off the building for his trouble.

I look away awkwardly, but can't help but be grateful. Uchiha's aura of smothering chocolate has dwindled to almost nothing. A subtle glance shows me the smirk on his face and the gleeful light in his eyes, and I can't help but smile, too. Maybe this team won't be so bad.

Naruto returns to us a minute later, dragging his feet. "So, we won't be playing with a full deck-"

"When are you ever?" Uchiha interjects.

" _-but we can adapt._ We'll call it ninja poker. The missing king of hearts and three of spades are totally intentional, I swear. Anyway. Moving on. Choji's bag is a mixture because of course it is, so the cool ranch are worth one chip because they taste disgusting, the nacho cheese are worth five, and the barbeque count as twenty. Okay?"

"Can you make the barbeque worth twenty-five?" I ask hopefully. "That way it's a logical progression of base five. I'm sorry, if you don't it's really going to bother me."

"Sure, whatever. Any other questions?"

"Switch the cheese and the barbeque," Uchiha demands.

"What? No. That's retarded. I'm not switching them around to suit your back-ass-wards taste buds, bastard. Adapt."

"You listened to her suggestion, but not mine? I call nepotism. Is this how you're going to become Godaime, loser? Get the hat for your birthday?"

Naruto scowls, but I don't taste any anger. "Her suggestion was logical and meaningful, like she is. Yours was rash and meaningless, like you are. No nepotism needed."

"Because you're acting _so_ unbiased."

" _I'm_ biased?!"

This continues for some time.

"Whatever! I'll switch the damn chips! Ranch for one, barbeque for five, cheese for twenty-five. Any more asinine questions? No? Thank the Sage. I'll deal, then imōto, then the bastard, and we'll loop around. This-"

"Why does Sakura get to go second?"

" _-is not up for debate._ "

"Hn. Touchy."

Naruto takes a long minute just gathering his breath. Still no salty anger. "Are we going to play this game or not? Never mind, don't answer that question. It was rhetorical. Here's your chips, don't eat them."

We get five ranch, four barbeque, and five cheese each, for a total of one hundred fifty 'chips' worth. That we don't get an even number of each bothers me, but when I open my mouth to mention this, Naruto throws me a dark look and I decide against it. Maybe I'll work out a proper frequency chart for next time. Or, just, you know, bring actual chips.

The game begins, and three things quickly become apparent.

First, Naruto has no idea what he is doing. I don't know if whoever taught him was having him on or if he was just a poor student, but he falls for every bluff and his rudimentary attempt at a poker face can be read like a picture book. He loudly attempts to count cards but snarls the basic arithmetic, succeeding only in messing up Uchiha's attempts to do the same. Three times in the first ten minutes he forgets which chip is worth which number of points, leading to frequent misplaced bets, once resulting in him losing fifty chips to Uchiha instead of the fifteen he had intended.

Most embarrassing, he picked up a casual eating habit from Chōji somewhere along the way. Every lost hand has him angrily munching on his own chips. He seems to have enough self-awareness to stick to the 'disgusting' cool ranch flavor, but his inability to tell which are which had him swallow one of his twenty-five-point nacho cheese chips whole. Being ninja, neither I nor Uchiha mentioned this. That backfired.

"Wha- I'm missing a cheese! What the hell! Bastard! Give it back!"

"Loser. I didn't steal your potato chip."

"Sakuraaa! Make him give it back!"

"He didn't steal your potato chip, onii-chan."

"Now you're taking the bastard's side? Sister! How could you… I thought what we had was special."

"Onii-chan… you ate it."

"That is such a horrible lie, imōto. If you're going to lie to your older brother, at least put some effort into it. I'm not stupid."

"Hn."

"Don't laugh at me, bastard!"

Second, Uchiha is viciously competent. More than once I found myself subtly checking his short sleeves for hidden cards. Since I know he has no friends at the Academy and doesn't do anything at home outside cleaning and training, I have to wonder if there was some kind of weekly Uchiha-only poker event that he used to go to. Before, well, Itachi happened. It's the only explanation. His mask is perfect, his bluffs are on-point and he never bets more than he's willing to lose.

Except for when Naruto draws him into a competition, anyways. The two of them have had something of a rivalry going for years, and they can't seem to help but draw it into their betting wars at every opportunity. All Naruto has to do is make some mocking, irreverent comment and Uchiha will suddenly find his pride on the line next to the rest of his chips. If there is one thing he's unwilling to go without, it's his pride.

"Aha! Raise! Can you match my two nacho cheese, bastard? Huh? Huh?"

"I-I fold?"

"Hn. Raise. Two cheese, two barbeque."

"Sorry bastard, I can't see your raise over my gigantic pile of chips! All in!"

"…"

"I heard the Uchiha had a cat contract but I didn't think you were a pussy!"

"Hn. Call."

"Ahaha! Knew you'd do it, dattebayo! Four of a kind! Aces, too!"

"Tch."

"Mine! All mine!"

Third, I am cleaning house. I'm not as skilled as Uchiha or as tenacious as Naruto, and I certainly don't have the best blank face at the- well, blanket, but that doesn't matter. I have something more useful. The ability to sense negative emotions. While the 'core' of each person's aura is relatively consistent, I've learned to read little fluctuations that can tell me how nervous someone is right now as opposed to how nervous they are as a person. With this power, I always know when someone is bluffing, by gauging how worried they are at a given moment against the baseline I measured at the start of the game. It's not perfect, but is scarily accurate.

More importantly, Naruto and Uchiha are so hyper-focused on each other I can flagrantly cheat with ease. Naruto will assume any missing cool ranch in his pile had gone down his gullet, and Uchiha is so wary of my brother's sleight-of-hand that he hasn't noticed the cards I've been stockpiling under my shawl. Perhaps most impressively is that neither of them has called me on how weirdly I oriented the blanket when I first set it down at the start of the game – I can see the reflections of their cards in the stairway access door behind them.

"All in, loser."

"I call that! Wait, no I don't! All in! Let's end this, imōto."

"Okay, onii-chan. All in."

"Hn. Four of a kind, aces."

"I win, dattebayo! Straight flush!"

"Tch. Whatever."

"Mm… Royal flush, onii-chan."

"W-what? No! Kai! Kai! Kai!"

I could have kept the game going a while longer. There'd be no point, though. The familiar font of white chocolate I've been tasting for a while now has finally left Father's office. Self-loathing and guilt aren't atypical of Konoha shinobi, but none taste quite like Kakashi. I could sense him across the village, and with him so nearby and coming closer? I'd have to be blind not to track him. He carries more dark emotions than Uchiha on a bad day.

When he appears on the railing with his orange book in hand and headband crossing his face, I'm the only one not surprised. I don't bother faking it, either. He, Father, and Naruto all know about my sixth sense. Even if he didn't, I couldn't fool him if I tried. Jōnin are perceptive like that.

"Looks like my cute little Genin of three hours are already indulging in some very un-cute vices. Maa, they grow up so quickly. Another memory for the scrapbook, I suppose."

"What scrapbook?" Naruto freaks. "I thought I torched it!"

Kakashi fans himself with his Icha Icha novel. "Maa, maa, don't worry about it, chibi-kage. Anyway. Let's all gather around like good little ducklings and introduce ourselves, hm? I'll go first. My name is Hatake Kakashi. My likes are failing arrogant wannabe Genin teams, and my dislikes are being saddled with arrogant wannabe Genin teams. My hobbies include laughing as I fail arrogant wannabe Genin teams. My dream is for a day to come where I don't have to bother with failing arrogant wannabe Genin teams anymore. Hm… was there something else…? …No? Oh, well. Your turn, prince duckling."

I don't… sense… anything wrong? Kakashi's not feeling any dark emotions, save the old remorse seared into his soul, and a single flare of cherry fear. If he's trying to evoke a reaction, though, it's working. Naruto scowls at the nickname and the insinuation that he's going to fail us, and Uchiha mimics him, salty anger filling my mouth. I can't imagine what it feels like, to think that my life dream would be pushed back another year and made all the more difficult because of a single lazy ninja.

"So slow," Kakashi laments. "I don't have all day, you know? Try to be faster."

Uchiha's salty anger sharpens. "Tch. My name is Uchiha Sasuke. I like proving arrogant Jōnin disgraces wrong. I dislike being patronized by arrogant Jōnin disgraces. My hobbies include mocking arrogant Jōnin disgraces. My dream is to, one day, kill a certain arrogant Jōnin disgrace and raise a family superior to any arrogant Jōnin disgrace's in the village. Nothing else comes to mind."

That… is some impressive passive-aggression. Naruto seems to agree, snickering to himself and indulging himself with the no-longer-needed barbeque chips. Kakashi doesn't disagree, no peppermint annoyance tickling my tongue, but his smiling, masked face is impossible to read. When he speaks cheerfully, no other emotion darkens his tone. "Oh, I'm blushing. I didn't realize you thought of me so often. I'm sorry, Sasuke, but you're too young for me and I am very, very heterosexual. Maybe if you learned your teammate's unique jutsu, I'd do you for a favor."

Uchiha's fist tightens. "Pass."

"Oh, well. There's always next year. Chibi-kage, go."

"My name is Namikaze Naruto!" he says cheerfully. His eyes are lidded, lest he blind himself from the shine of his own smile. "My likes are many and varied, but are all eclipsed by my worship of the God of Ramen. My dislikes are few and simple, but pale in the face of my undying hatred for those who blaspheme against the God of Ramen. My hobbies include frequent and fervent declarations of worship to the God of Ramen, usually made whilst kneeling in front of the shrine to the God of Ramen I built out of minute ramen cups in my closet. My wish is to one day ascend as a God of Ramen myself. I can't remember… oh, and to become Hokage somewhere along the line."

I huff a laugh despite myself. Some impressive word choice, for my brother – I wonder how long he spent drafting it? Uchiha and Kakashi share my amusement, but neither show it, one out of pride and the other for an unknowable reason. I don't have the time to try and divine it, since my new sensei is speaking a moment later, saying, "That was very illuminating, thank you. Next, the other one."

I blink in bemusement. Do I not get a mocking nickname? Is… that a good thing, or…? "My name is Namikaze Sakura." And since I'm not one to break a perfectly usable schema, "I like reading. I dislike those who disrupt my reading. My hobby is reading. My dream is to spend my life reading. I have no other characteristics."

Naruto laughs through a mouth full of potato chips, and Uchiha quirks a lip. Kakashi just sighs. "You three are going to be a bundle of fun, I can tell. The real lives of the party."

The words sound familiar, but I can't recall where from. Naruto doesn't seem to have noticed anything, but peppermint annoyance fills my mouth and Uchiha's gaze jerks to our sensei, filled with something wary and alarmed. I wish, not for the first time, that my jinchūriki-given sensory ability extended to positive emotions as well. I'd be twice as informed, and maybe half as cynical.

"It doesn't matter, I suppose," he laments, "I'll only be taking one of you on as an apprentice. The two of you who fail will be assigned to tokujō paper-nin to learn a trade. I think they were Morino Ibiki from T&I and Kato Shizune from the Medic Corps? Something like that, I wasn't paying attention; I was just getting to one of the good parts in my book."

He strokes his smutty novel like one would a small kitten. I try and fail to swallow down the sickening sweetness heavy in my throat. Naruto has no such compunctions, screaming, "What the hell?! You can't do that!"

"Hn." Uchiha's trademark sound is filled with so much displeasure, I choke on it.

"I can and I will," Kakashi responds with infuriating cheer. "See, all three of you are priority targets. The children of the Hokage and the last Sharingan carrier in the village? You didn't _really_ think we'd be stupid enough to put you all in the field together with just a single Jōnin for protection, did you? It would be ludicrously simple for literally any other village to overwhelm me with numbers and abduct the three of you in a single, fell swoop. Since we couldn't split you up by sorting you with the civilian chaff, and since Teams Eight and Ten have been set in stone since before they were born, we had to come up with a different plan.

"So, the wise and venerable Yondaime Hokage decided that having all three of you out in the field at all was a risk he just couldn't tolerate. He ordered me to devise a test to determine which of you had the most skill for field work and take the winner on as my apprentice in the ways of the shinobi. The other two would be groomed as the next heads of the Interrogators and Iryō-Nin, duty-bound to remain safe in the village for the rest of their lives." His voice takes on a distinctly more mocking tone. "Isn't that just swell?"

This…

…is not ideal.

* * *

 **End of Chapter One**

* * *

 _ **A/N:** I won't be including any polls or reader input in this story, but I adore reviews and treasure every one of them. Anyway. This story is a slight AU, altering little things like seal mechanics and the workings of Negative Emotions Sensing. I will also be veering sharply away from canon; I've read too many canon re-hashes to write one myself. Furthermore, there will be no bashing or pairings in this story, though once I get to Shippuden there'll likely be romance. That being said, if you have any ideas or whatnot feel free to mention them; who knows, maybe it'll inspire me._


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